


Love and Honor

by Fanforthefics (StormDancer)



Series: Hockey Tumblr Oneshots [28]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-27 18:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16707523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/Fanforthefics
Summary: Ryan hears–sometimes it’s said in malice, that the new prince from far-away with the uppity manners doesn’t know he’ll be cuckolded as soon as he’s married, won’t that be a surprise. Sometimes it’s said with worry, that they wonder if the new prince will tell his parents that his betrothed is mistreating him as he waits for someone else. And sometimes it’s said with pity, that it’s so sad that the marriage will be loveless, with the prince’s heart so far away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: 5 Headcanons, royalty AU. 
> 
> Don't know, don't own, etc.

The rumors start when they hit their teens–when it becomes clear that the close friendship between the prince and a member of the lower nobility is not something Prince Taylor will grow out of, when it becomes clear that there is no one the Prince trusts as much as Eberle, when it becomes clear that Eberle is the Prince’s constant shadow. There could be a reason for that, the rumors saying, zinging around court; Eberle’s barely a member of the nobility, he has skill at arms, to be sure, but is not even a knight yet. There are reasons a young, strapping prince might have a bosom companion in an attractive young squire. The prince 

Taylor always laughs, when Jordan mentions the rumors; laughs and throws his arm around Jordan’s shoulders and tells him, “They know there’s no other reason to keep you around,” teasing and warm and dismissive. 

Jordan laughs too, when Taylor can see, as it’s so clearly what Taylor wants. But–Jordan knows where the rumors are coming from. His devotion to the prince is no secret, but–Jordan has apparently failed to keep the extent of that devotion secret to anyone but Taylor. That must be the source of the rumors, after all; that the whole court can look at Jordan and know what he would give to his prince, if Taylor ever indicated he wanted it. 

Jordan hates the rumors, for the tease they give of if only they were true, but for a long time, they only touch him. A prince may have his fun, after all, without censure; it’s Jordan who the nobles sometimes side eye, murmur about having won his knighthood on his knees. If that’s the price Jordan has to pay to be at court, with Taylor, he’ll pay it. 

But then–then, the longstanding diplomatic negotiations draw to a close, and Taylor is betrothed. Taylor doesn’t seem to note a difference; he jokes to Jordan about what his new betrothed might like about court. Jordan teases back, tells Taylor that this man, Ryan, won’t put up with him, ad Taylor smirks and says that “no one puts up with me like you do, though, right?” It’s not like Jordan ever expected anything else. 

But the rumors change, too. They wonder if the prince will be faithful to his paramour or his new husband. If the prince will ruin the long effort to make alliance because of his infatuation. Taylor whispers a joke to Jordan in court one day, and the next the whispers go around that the prince has promised Sir Eberle a station as high as his betrothed at court. And those rumors–those, Jordan can’t stand for. He loves his prince. He won’t let his presence mar his rule. 

Jordan can’t duel the entire court, and the rumors would only get worse if he did. So instead, he takes another option. 

“I don’t see why you’re going,” Taylor tells him up until the last, when Jordan’s mounted at his horse and Taylor’s standing at his knee, still scowling. “You’ve earned your knighthood. You don’t have to go prove your honor.”  

Jordan’s mouth twists, but he smiles. “Who else will go questing?” he asks. “You?” 

“I wish.” Taylor sighs. “We could go together.“ Jordan glances around. That would help none of the rumors. 

“Well you can’t, so I’ll go.” 

“Don’t.” Taylor looks up. Jordan’s not often taller than him. “What am I supposed to do here?” 

“You’ll have your betrothed,” Jordan tells him, and ignores the twinge at that. “You don’t need me.” 

Taylor snorts, which shows what he thinks of that. “What if I made it an order?” he asks, his eyes glinting. 

Jordan raises his eyebrows. “Since when do I obey your stupid orders?” 

Taylor’s smile flashes, bright and brilliant, then it fades, and he steps closer, takes Jordan’s gauntleted hand in his bare one. “What if I asked?” he says, quieter. Intent. “As your prince. What if I asked you to stay?” 

Jordan’s breath catches. Jordan might ignore Taylor’s orders, but he’s never refused him something he truly wanted. 

Except he doesn’t know what he’s asking this time. Not really. “Please don’t,” Jordan says, as steady as he can. It comes out as more of a plea than he wants. Under him, his horse fidgets, picking up on his mood. 

Taylor looks at him for another long moment, then he lets go of Jordan’s hand to dig in his pockets. “Here,” He says at last, and shoves something at Jordan. Jordan picks it up–it’s a signet ring, heavy, with the Hall family seal on it, a gold chain running through it. “Taylor–” 

“It’ll give you safe passage,” Taylor tells him, mulish. “At least through our allies’ land. If I can’t go with you, I still want to help keep you safe.” Jordan has to smile at that.   “And,” Taylor adds, looking away now. “It’ll make sure you don’t forget me while you’re off adventuring.” 

Jordan swallows. “Taylor–” he starts, but Taylor shakes his head and steps back. 

“Don’t. If you don’t want me to ask you to stay, then just–go.” 

Jordan understands. He takes the ring, and tucks it around his neck, so it hangs next to his heart. Taylor watches, his mouth gaping open. “Good bye.” 

“Come back,” Taylor replies, lifting his chin. His eyes are sparkling with tears, but they’re unshed. “Please.” 

They both know Jordan can’t promise that. “I will,” Jordan says anyway, and goes without looking back, so he won’t be tempted to stay. 

* * *

Ryan doesn’t know what to expect from the Hall court. He’s coming as an ally, from a land they traditionally have little contact with, so he is not truly worried about outright enmity–his marriage is saving both countries from expenditure and possibly war. But he knows it will be different. And he knows very little about his betrothed, other than he’s apparently handsome and charming, but that is what anyone will say when telling someone about their betrothed. Ryan’s prepared himself for a paunchy, spoiled prince; if it is the price he has to pay for his country’s well-being, he’ll pay it and be glad. 

Much to his surprise, the prince is handsome and charming. Taylor greets him when he arrives with his retinue, starts talking and doesn’t stop really as he shows Ryan around the castle, chattering on but stopping occasionally to listen. Ryan prefers to listen anyway, so he’s not put off by that. 

And listen he does, as he settles into the new court, in preparation for the wedding in a few months. Listens to his betrothed, and finds that against all odds, he thinks they fit together well. Taylor’s impetuous and emotional, perhaps, but he’s kind and loyal too. Ryan can be watchful enough for the both of them. And he’s handsome as well, which Ryan finds a bonus he was not expecting; they’ve stolen a few kisses away from their chaperones, and Ryan thinks that that part of their marriage will be more than satisfactory. 

But Ryan listens to people other than just his betrothed. He will have to rule this court, one day, and that means he has to learn its currents, its structure. He finds the gossip. It isn’t hard. 

And so he hears–sometimes it’s said in malice, that the new prince from far-away with the uppity manners doesn’t know he’ll be cuckolded as soon as he’s married, won’t that be a surprise. Sometimes it’s said with worry, that they wonder if the new prince will tell his parents that his betrothed is mistreating him as he waits for someone else. And sometimes it’s said with pity, that it’s so sad that the marriage will be loveless, with the prince’s heart so far away. 

Ryan would dismiss it–he knows how rumors work–except that Taylor…well, Taylor talks about Jordan constantly, casually, like he’s about to come around the corner. Sometimes Taylor looks out the window and far away, and it’s clear he’s wondering where his friend is, when he’ll return, if he’ll return. Once one of the courtiers joked about the perils that might have befallen Sir Eberle on his quest, and Taylor loudly got up and left the room. 

Ryan isn’t jealous, necessarily. He thinks he could love Taylor, and he thinks Taylor could love him too. But he was prepared for a loveless marriage. And from what he’s heard, even from the worst gossips, Sir Eberle sounds like a worthy recipient of Taylor’s love. He just–wants to know, what he should be expecting. Will his marriage be a marriage in the truest sense? Or a friendship? He needs to know. 

So he finds Taylor one day, two month before the wedding, walking on the walls, looking east, and fingering a ring on his neck. “It’s been nine months,” Taylor explains, when Ryan asks what he’s looking for. “People thought the quest might take about a year, but Jordan’s efficient. He might be done early.” He laughs a little, without his usual joy. “I don’t want to have a wedding without him.” 

He looks so sad as he looks over the walls. Ryan has to ask. “Were you and Sir Eberle…” 

Taylor turns to him, his brows drawn together. “Were we what?” he demands, his temper coming fast. 

Ryan doesn’t mind his temper. He can take it. “You know what the rumors say,” he says, mild. “Is there any truth to them?” 

The temper crests over Taylor’s face. “How can you ask me that?” he snaps. “I would never!” 

“You being a virgin wasn’t part of the marriage deal,” Ryan points out, straightening. He didn’t expect this sort of fury. He’s never seen Taylor like this. 

“Not to you, I didn’t know you like I do now,” Taylor retorts. “To Jordan.” 

* * *

This is what Taylor has known, since he was sixteen and first blinked and saw his best friend with new eyes: that he loves Jordan in a way he’s never loved anyone else, and never will. That he is a prince, and that gives him power, and responsibility to go with it. That Jordan has never refused him anything he asked. That he wants to ask–that he dreams of asking–not just for the things the rumors say, but for more. For everything. For all of Jordan. 

That if he asked, Jordan would give himself to Taylor like that, because Taylor was his prince. Not because he loved Taylor in return. And that Taylor would not do, could not do. No matter the temptation at his weakest moments, the niggling resolve in the back of his mind that he would make it worthwhile for Jordan, that he would shower him with gold and honor and anything else Jordan asked for. He would not be that sort of prince. He would not make Jordan into that sort of consort. He would not break his own heart, to know Jordan was acting out of a different sort of love than his. 

It’s why there’s a part of him–guilty, small–that is glad Jordan is gone. Jordan is a part of him, a constant like the signet ring Jordan put around his neck that’s a match to the one on Taylor’s hand, but it’s easier, with him gone. Taylor like Ryan. He thinks he could even love him in time, in a different but maybe not worse way than Jordan. Ryan is sharp and funny and smart and he pushes back where Jordan would have given in and he is quick in negotiating and cool where Taylor burns hot and he kisses like Taylor is a puzzle he’s intent on solving. He is the man Taylor will marry, and be faithful to, and that is–simple, in many ways, though Ryan is complex in intriguing ways. Taylor is allowed to love Ryan, and to get Ryan to love him back, and so he does, for the months leading up to the wedding. 

And if sometimes, guiltily, he still turns to his side expecting to see Jordan at his shoulder; if he still looks east and wills Jordan to be alive, to come home; if sometimes Ryan’s cool calculation infuriates him and he wishes for someone who will let him rage–he wants his friend. That is nothing new. That is allowed. A king is allowed his right hand, after all. His right hand, and his husband, who is more than enough. 

It’s two months before the wedding, and Taylor is sparring with Ryan, both of them laughing as their practice swords clang–they’re well matched at this as well–when a page comes running in, panting. 

“Your highness–your highnesses,” he corrects, grabbing onto the rail of the practice ring. “The watch captain said I should let you know as soon as I found you.” 

“Let me know what?” Taylor asks, one eye on Ryan as he lowers his sword. He wouldn’t put it past Ryan to try to surprise him. 

The page looks up. His face is red. “Sir Eberle’s just been spotted,’ he says, and some part of Taylor recognizes how still Ryan’s gone through the haze of joy that’s overtaken him. “He’s coming through the gates now. He’s home.” 

* * *

Ryan is a few moment behind Taylor after the page’s words–he takes the time to set theirs sword on the rack to be properly cleaned, and to run his hand through his sweaty hair, before he goes to the courtyard, unlike Taylor who took off running the moment the page said the words. There is a part of him that wants to bathe, to get out of his chain mail and into something more princely. He wants to make a good first impression. Whatever Taylor and Sir Eberle are, Sir Eberle is important to Taylor, and so making a good impression on him is important. 

And, a more vicious, meaner part of him whispers–to impress upon him that Ryan is not removable. That he can’t just come back and sweep away the life Ryan’s trying to make. Ryan worries, in the part of himself he doesn’t want to admit, that if Sir Eberle said the word–then all Ryan’s quiet hopes for a happy marriage could come tumbling down. 

But there’s no time for that (and it’s better to be there right away, with Taylor, that secret part of him whispers), so Ryan hurries after Taylor. Taylor’s rush didn’t matter, in the end; Ryan has a chance to cool off as Taylor fidgets in the courtyard by the time the knight on horseback comes riding in. 

“Jordan!” Taylor yells, and takes off again. The knight looks up, and he’s helmless so Ryan catches sight of a broad grin before the knight throws himself off his horse just in time for Taylor to catch him in a hug. 

The force of it makes him stumble back into his horse, which makes a low sound and moves away, but the hug doesn’t stop. If either Taylor or Sir Eberle is aware of the other people in the courtyard–the way people are looking at them, at Ryan–neither of them show it. 

Ryan swallows. He knew they were friends, great friends, and no one had even known that Sir Eberle was alive. This is understandable. 

It still seems like hours before Sir Eberle lets Taylor go. He says something, and Taylor laughs, and a squire comes in and takes the horse and his packs aware from Sir Eberle as Taylor tugs at his wrist, pulling him forward towards Ryan. 

“This is Ryan, my betrothed,” Taylor announces to Sir Eberle, when they’re close enough to be heard. “Ryan, this is Jordan.” He says it like it’s something precious, like being Jordan is an accomplishment to be proud of. 

Ryan eyes him. From Taylor’s stories, he somehow expected Sir Eberle to be a giant, but he’s shorter than Taylor and Ryan both, a little stocky. His eyes are as bright a blue as Taylor’s, his hair dark as it falls over his forehead. He still has a grin on his face from greeting Taylor, and Ryan can see the gap between his teeth. Despite himself, Ryan can admit he’s handsome as well. 

And Taylor is clearly so pleased, and Ryan can feel the weight of everyone else watching. “Welcome home, Sir Eberle,” he says, cool but hopefully friendly. “You’ve been missed here.” Behind Jordan, he can see Taylor’s confused face, probably at how measured that welcome was, and how he mouths ‘Sir Eberle’ incredulously. 

Sir Eberle looks at him for a long moment, and Ryan can tell he was wrong–he knows everyone is watching, even if Taylor didn’t. Ryan can feel himself being assessed, and he straightens. He doesn’t want to be found wanting. 

“I feel like I should be welcoming you, your highness” Sir Eberle says at last, and grins at Ryan, all warmth. “A few months late for that, though. I hear you’re the one who’s going to have to put up with this one for the rest of your life?” he nods at Taylor, who yelps out a “Hey!” as Ryan snorts in surprise.

“So I hear,” he replies, and it’s impossible not to smile in the face of Sir Eberle’s smile.  “No one’s vowed anything yet, though.” 

“Better you than me,” Sir Eberle grins at Taylor. 

“You made vows too,” Taylor mutters, pouting. “Or did you go away and forget?” 

Sir Eberle’s hand goes up to his neck, where a chain is showing above his collar. “No,” he says quietly. “I didn’t.” Then he turns to Ryan, his gaze flicking up and down him. “And how have you been finding court?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested. 

Ryan looks at Taylor and Sir Eberle, how they’ve somehow slotted into synch, easy in each other’s space. It makes him inexplicably lonely, more homesick than he’s been for months, even as Taylor smiles encouragingly at him, the same as he has since Ryan got here, and Sir Eberle’s face is friendly too. “I like it,” he says anyway. People are listening. “It’ll be a good home.” 

“Yes,” Sir Eberle agrees, and touches the necklace again. “I think it will.” 

* * *

It takes Jordan a few days to settle back into the rhythms of the castle, both helped along and not helped at all by how Taylor seems to be determined not to let him out of his sight. Jordan isn’t really complaining about that; nothing says home to him quite like Taylor–his smile, his easy touch, the way he seems to read Jordan’s mind. Jordan has missed him, more than he can say _._

Taylor’s determination means that Jordan’s with him when he’s with Prince Ryan as well. Jordan had meant to try to fade into the stone a little bit, with the new prince–anyone might be annoyed at someone else taking all of their betrothed’s time, and he doesn’t want to start the rumors again. From what he’d heard on the road, Prince Ryan seems like a worthy husband for Taylor. 

But now Jordan doesn’t have a choice, so he’s dragged along on their walks, on their sparring sessions, to court where he takes his place behind Taylor’s right shoulder while Ryan sits on his left. Taylor’s started to whisper loud enough for them both to hear. 

And, well. It doesn’t take long for Jordan to notice a few things that Taylor doesn’t, because Taylor has some very particular blinders on. 

He goes to the library, when Taylor is in a Council meeting that Jordan is actually not allowed into. As he expected, Prince Ryan is there, leaning over a book. It’s very quiet, in the library–very empty. No one else is there. 

Taylor loves him, Jordan reminds himself, looking at the man in front of him. Taylor hasn’t told Jordan yet, but it’s clear. Taylor loves him, which means Jordan needs him to be happy here. And–Jordan likes him, from what he’s seen. He doesn’t want anyone to be unhappy. 

So he takes the seat next to Prince Ryan. The prince’s head jerks up in surprise when Jordan sits down. “Sir Eberle! I didn’t hear you.” 

“Jordan,” Jordan corrects. “And I am sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you, your highness.” 

Prince Ryan looks around. “I’m surprised I didn’t hear you.” If he thinks anything about Jordan’s correction, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t show a lot, behind that somehow ageless face. 

“You were very absorbed,” Jordan agrees. “What are you reading?” 

For a moment, the prince just eyes him. Then he tilts his head, like he’s confused. “There’s no one here,” He says, direct but watchful, like he’s making a chess move. “Why are you?” 

Jordan doesn’t think in chess. But he can tell when someone’s being defensive. “Because you seem lonely,” he tells the prince, maybe more boldly than he should. He doesn’t want to know what Taylor would do, if his betrothed spoke out against Jordan. But–it would break Jordan’s heart to leave, but he has other places, now. He’s seen more of the world. He is known as a good knight elsewhere. He has places to go. “I may be wrong, but.” He shrugs. “I don’t think I am.” 

The prince blinks at Jordan, long and slow. “Did Taylor send you?” 

Jordan snorts. “Taylor doesn’t know what it’s like to be lonely, not here,” he says. “This is his place. He doesn’t know what it means when it’s not yours.” 

“And you do?” 

Jordan looks at him, raises his eyebrows. “I’m the son of minor nobility, who the prince decided was his best friend and raised higher than my parents ever dreamed of. What do you think?” 

Prince Ryan’s still watching him, with the steady, almost unnerving gaze. Then he smiles, just a bit, like a mask cracking, and oh, Jordan thinks. Oh, this is why Taylor loves him. “I think,” he says slowly, “That you rose high because you earned it, and if anyone doubted that before, you’ve succeeded on a quest everyone but Taylor thought you’d die on.” 

Jordan can’t help his pleased smile at that. Taylor won’t admit anyone ever doubted him. It’s good to know he’s proved all of them wrong–all of those people who ever claimed he didn’t deserve to be where he was. “And I think that we are both outsiders here for the love of a prince,” Jordan says, quiet. “That is something we can have in common.” 

Prince Ryan nods, and he’s still smiling. “Yes,” he agrees. “I think we can. Jordan.” 

* * *

Ryan expected to love Taylor, or to try to. It would be better, everyone agreed, if he could love his husband. 

He expected to have a quiet truce with Jordan. They could each have different parts of Taylor, and that would be fine. 

What he did not expect is what he gets–for Jordan to befriend him without Taylor at all, for him to see parts of him Taylor hadn’t. For him to be warm and a comfort and a steady presence when Taylor was mercurial and Ryan needed someplace to land. He can see, more and more as the days go by and Jordan makes an effort to spend time with Ryan when Taylor is busy, even though Ryan knows he has his own duties, why Taylor loves him, however Taylor loves him. 

Taylor is pleased by it too, Ryan can see, though he pouts and complains about them excluding him. He beams when he sees Jordan and Ryan together. Ryan is starting to understand; he feels similar, he thinks, when he sees Taylor and Jordan together–their ease and friendship is beautiful. It paints a picture of his life that he thinks he would like–a fulfilling marriage, a lasting friendship, a kingdom to rule. Maybe some day Jordan would find someone too, and then it could be two pairs. 

Something nags at him though, when he thinks that–something a little like that mean, vicious part of him that had once wanted to overawe Jordan. Something not right with that picture. 

It’s hard to think about that, in the busy lead up to the wedding. Taylor claims that he has official prince things to do and that Jordan would be better at it and knows what he likes when he can, and when he can’t Ryan generally demands Jordan come anyway because he’s better at dealing with Taylor when he gets impatient and Ryan just wants to get things done right. Jordan always comes, anyway; helps them with all their planning and mediates between them when he isn’t ganging up on one of them. 

It starts out fun. But as the days pass, and the wedding nears, Jordan gets quieter, enough that even Ryan notices. Taylor definitely does; Ryan can tell by how close he keeps Jordan, how he tries to make him laugh. Ryan tries to do his part too, though he thinks it’s him that’s supposed to be having wedding nerves; he spars with Jordan, talks through drills for the new squires, brings him new books he’s found. Jordan smiles at them both, but Ryan always sees his face fall again as soon as their backs are turned, his hand fiddling with his necklace. 

“It’s like when he left, before,” Taylor says, two nights before the wedding–their last night they’re allowed to be alone together before the wedding. They’d eaten by themselves; Jordan was in none of his usual haunts, and when not even Taylor could find him, they had to conclude he hadn’t wanted to be found. Taylor bites at his lip. “Do you think he’s going to leave again?” 

Ryan wants to say no. Wants to say that Jordan’s back, that he’s reintegrated himself with the knights, that everyone knows when Taylor’s king he’ll become Captain and he’s being groomed for that. 

But he doesn’t know Jordan that well. And he’s been acting so subdued. “I don’t know,” Ryan admits. “Why would he?” 

“I don’t know why he left in the first place,” Taylor says, starting to pace. “He just decided he had to go on a quest one day, even though he’d never talked about it before.” 

Ryan has some idea why he left–some idea of the rumors he’d left behind, of how he needed to prove himself. He thinks Taylor does too, though he won’t admit it. “He came back, though,” Ryan points out. Jordan will always come back to Taylor, he thinks. Maybe even to Ryan too, now. 

“This time. But–” 

There’s a knock on the door. “Your highness?” comes Jordan’s voice, and Ryan and Taylor exchange a look. Ryan’s never heard Jordan refer to Taylor by his title. “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Taylor says, and the door opens and Jordan comes in. 

He’s not dressed for travel, which is a relief–he’s wearing a tunic and hose and his soft boots. But he still looks pale, and his eyes are red rimmed, and they widen when he sees Ryan.  

“What’s wrong?” Ryan demands, a beat ahead of Taylor. He gets to his feet. He doesn’t feel like he should be standing. 

Jordan pauses, then he closes the door behind him. His chin is tilted up, steadfast despite the look in his eyes, like he’s being torn open. 

Slowly, he reaches into his tunic, and pulls off the necklace Ryan’s never seen him without. At the bottom is a ring, gold and heavy. “I came to return this,” he says, even like quicksand might seem. He holds the ring out to Taylor, who’s looking at him like–like something is cracking in him too. 

“No.” Ryan’s never heard Taylor sound so sure. “You can’t.” 

“You kept me safe. Now you should take it back,” Jordan tells him, attempting at reasonable. He’s still holding out the ring. 

“No,” Taylor says again. “It’s yours. I gave it to you. You can’t give it back.” 

The light catches the ring, and–Ryan recognizes it. He’s seen it’s twin on Taylor’s finger enough. A signet ring, that’s been lying next to Jordan’s heart for almost a year now–that Taylor gave him. 

Well that answers that, Ryan thinks, and he finds he’s not angry, or heartbroken. It’s just certainty, looking at how Taylor and Jordan are staring at each other, years of emotion in that look. 

“Fine then,” Jordan snaps, and turns to Ryan, still holding out the ring. “Take it. You’re his husband. You should have it.” 

Ryan looks  at Taylor, who stares at Jordan giving away his ring like his world is falling apart, and then his gaze flicks to Ryan, something that’s an apology and a plea in his gaze. Then Ryan focuses again on Jordan, who’s thrusting the ring out towards him, and his heartbreak is in his eyes and still he’s giving it away.

“No,” Ryan says. Of course they love each other. He can’t blame either of them.  He knows what it feels like. “It’s yours.” 

Jordan makes a sound like someone hit him. “Somebody take it!” he pleads, and his voice cracks. “Please, I can’t–” he swallows, and he’s looking between Ryan and Taylor now, desperation vibrating through him. “I will be your knight forever, but I can’t–I can’t have this. I can’t pretend it’s mine, not when you have each other. It isn’t mine. It could never be, and I can’t–” 

“It’s yours,” Taylor snaps. “Sorry, Ryan, but I don’t care who I’m marrying. That’s yours, Jordan. It always has been.” 

“You can’t do that to Ryan!” Jordan tells him, and he sways away from Taylor when Taylor steps towards him, though it clearly takes everything in him to do it. He’s doing that for Ryan, Ryan thinks. He’s saying no to Taylor for him. “He doesn’t deserve–and what do you mean, always?” 

Taylor laughs, humorless. “I’d have given you whatever you wanted, if you’d really wanted it. If you weren’t just doing it for me.” 

“Don’t tell me that!” Jordan yells. “You’re getting married in two days–Ryan’s right there! You love each other. I’m trying not to–I’ll leave,” he decides, and Taylor freezes as it finally jolts Ryan into action. “I’ll leave and you can love each other in peace, and–” 

Ryan reaches out, and takes the ring from Jordan’s hand. Jordan makes that hurt sound again, and Taylor breathes out, “No, Ryan–” 

And then he takes the necklace, and drapes it back over Jordan’s head. 

Jordan goes still, and he looks up at Ryan, confused and in pain and a hundred other things Ryan never wants him to feel. “I’m just trying to make you both happy. ,” Jordan says, barely a whisper. “You’re his and he’s yours. It’s how it should be." 

“Yes,” Ryan agrees, and tugs the chain of the necklace so Jordan has to come closer to him. “And,” he goes on, with all the viciousness that little part of him has been whispering with, “you’re ours.” 

Jordan makes another noise, but Ryan doesn’t give him time to say anything, before he tugs him in to kiss him. For a second, an amazing second, Jordan pushes back into him–then he stops, and tugs away, and despite the pounding of Ryan’s heart he’s not surprised when Jordan looks over at Taylor. Ryan does too. Taylor’s staring at them both, but not like his world is falling apart anymore. More like his world might be coming together. 

“Taylor, I didn’t–” Jordan starts, and then Taylor’s crossing the room to them in two long strides, and he leans over Ryan’s back. 

“Ours,” he echoes, fierce, and his hand’s resting on Ryan’s hip as he leans down to kiss Jordan too, and Ryan can feel when Jordan lets go and melts into Ryan to kiss him back. 

* * *

Taylor stands at the altar and makes his vows. Ryan is standing across from him, and he’s smiling serenely, so sure. For a second, though, Taylor can feel Ryan’s gaze leave him, to look over Taylor’s shoulder–to where he knows Jordan is standing, forever at his right hand, like he can feel the weight of his signet ring on his finger, another promise that he’d never thought he’d have. 

“Until death do us part,” he finishes, and sees Ryan smile again, feels the warmth of Jordan’s gaze. 

“Until death do us part,” Ryan echoes, and then it all blurs again and there are cheers and Taylor’s leaning over to kiss Ryan. 

Then they turn, and Jordan’s stepped towards them–Taylor had demanded he have the honor of being the first to pledge fealty. 

Jordan sinks to his knees, like an echo of when he was knighted, years ago. “Your highness,” he says, and tilts his head up so he’s looking at them both, and Taylor has known him long enough to know what it looks like when his heart is in his gaze. “I am your knight. For as long as you will have me.” 

He reaches up, touches his heart. Taylor can feel himself smiling like he can’t stop, as Ryan’s fingers interlock with his. 

* * *

The rumors don’t stop. The Knight-Captain is the King’s lover, they say; haven’t you seen how he stays in the king’s room, late at night? 

But no, another says, he is the Prince Consort’s lover; for didn’t you see them walking together in the gardens? 

But no, yet another says, the King and the Prince Consort are most desperately in love, for have you not seen them together in court? 

But let the rumors have their say. The truth isn’t the court’s to know.  


	2. Timestamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: 10 years later

Ten years later, they’re at war. 

It’s not the first time, or the last. Their land is prosperous, and Taylor is–to some, but not many people’s surprise–a good king, but sometimes wars have to be fought. Usually, a show of strength is enough to bring everyone to the negotiating table. Sometimes, it can be settled in a duel, each knight fighting for their land’s honor. But sometimes–sometimes, it can only be done by war. 

Taylor comes in to their chambers–well, his and Ryan’s chambers, technically, but Jordan always sleeps there, has his third of the wardrobe. His room in the barracks, luxurious as it may be, is nothing more than window dressing. So it’s their chambers he comes in to, to see Ryan and Jordan sitting at the table. Ryan’s looking at some papers on his desk; Jordan’s lying down reading a book, his head in Ryan’s lap. One of Ryan’s hands is stroking over his hair, soft and easy. Taylor can see the ring on Ryan’s finger; can see the chain at Jordan’s neck that means he’s wearing his ring there, like he always has. 

At the sound of the door opening, they both look up–then at Taylor’s face, they both stand up. 

“That’s that, then,” Ryan says. He shuffles the papers together. 

“It is,” Taylor agrees. “They refused our last overtures. We can’t concede any more.” 

“You can’t,” Jordan agrees. ““So now it’s my turn.”  He stretches–no longer the lithe, limber boy Taylor had first known him as, but solid and well-built still, a knight in his prime. Taylor has spent ten years learning every bit of him, more than he could ever have dreamed as his friend. “I should go,” he says, and sets his book on the table. “The vanguard should ride in the next few days. The main force quickly after–within the week, at least, if we can get the supplies.” 

He leans over, kisses Ryan’s cheek, then crosses to Taylor. “I should–” he starts, and Taylor catches his wrist before he can leave. 

Jordan slows, looks up at him. His eyes are the same as they’ve always been, twenty some years later. “Please don’t,” Taylor says. 

Jordan smiles, a little. “I need to be with the knights,” he tells Taylor. “That’s what Knight Captains do.” 

And then Jordan will go to war, and Taylor has sat at home and waited for Jordan to go off to battle without knowing if he’ll come back before. 

Movement–Ryan, coming up behind Taylor, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Come back later,” Ryan says, making the compromise. “When you’re done.” 

The look Jordan gives them both is surprised. “Of course. Where else would I go?” 

Ryan shakes his head, laughs a little. “Not just tonight.” 

“Oh.” Jordan shakes his head too, and Taylor knows that smile, too well. “Like I said. Where else would I go?” 

Ryan and Taylor exchange a look, because it’s not something they’ve talked about, but it’s there sometimes, when they fight, when Jordan goes–that he could leave, in a way they can’t. His only bonds are his love and his honor, and those won’t stop a sword. 

Taylor turns back to Jordan. He’s already far away, planning–they’ve all been planning for this, since they knew it was a possibility, but Jordan’s not Knight Captain simply because he is the King’s lover. Taylor knows he’ll be on the front lines of whatever battle will come. “Ebs,” he says, slowly. Jordan turns back to him. “If I asked you not to go–” 

Jordan’s smile twists. Ryan’s arm tightens around Taylor, a warning. They both know that Jordan hasn’t gotten better at telling Taylor no, really. “I can’t be your Knight Captain and not go,” Jordan says instead. “You can have one or the other.” 

For a second, Taylor seriously thinks about it. Thinks about keeping Ebs  _safe._

“No, Taylor,” Ryan tells him, sharp. Always so practical, their Ryan. “Go,” Ryan says, and steps away from Taylor to kiss Jordan properly. They’ve gotten good at it; the sight never grows old to Taylor, to see his lovers together like that. “Go,” Ryan tells him. “Then come back.” 

“Always,” Jordan says, with a smile and a promise. Then he bows, and leaves. 

Taylor turns to Ryan, and Ryan opens his arms, lets Taylor hug him. “You know he couldn’t stay,” Ryan says into his ear. He doesn’t say, but Taylor thinks–not when Taylor sent him to war. 

“I know,” Taylor admits, straightening. Ryan looks at the door, and it feels off-kilter already, like they can tell Jordan’s almost gone. 

“So then,” Ryan says, his jaw set and his eyes cool and determined and fierce. “We’ll just have to make sure this war ends.” 

Taylor laughs, surprised and delighted even now. “Yes,” he agrees, and this time he kisses Ryan, to seal the deal. “We will.”  

* * *

(It’s Ryan who sees them coming back. Ryan this time, who sends a page to Taylor and bolts down to the courtyard, in time to see Jordan dismounting, looking tired and thinner but whole. 

“Sir Eberle,” he says, trying to stay calm, but he finds he cannot care about rumors now. The war is over, concessions made on both sides–a good deal, if Ryan does say so himself–and Jordan is home. 

“Your highness,” Jordan replies. He doesn’t drop to his knee, but he looks like he would if he thought Ryan would let him get away with it. Like he looks like he’d kiss Ryan, if he thought they weren’t being watched. 

For a moment, Ryan seriously considers it. It’s not like anyone doesn’t know.  

But in the end, “Welcome home,” he says instead, and beckons Jordan closer. “I know the King wants to see you as soon as possible.” 

“Oh does he?” Jordan replies, chuckling–Ryan’s missed his laugh. 

“He does,” Ryan agrees. He is maybe walking quickly, as they enter the castle. “And so do I.” 

“Ryan,” Jordan says, as soon as they get inside. He tugs him to the side, into an empty room, then tumbles into him, holding him tight. Ryan holds him back, resting his temple on Jordan’s hair. Feeling him whole and here, with him. Back to make them whole. 

“Okay,” Jordan says at last. He lifts his head. “Let’s go find Taylor.” 

“Yes,” Ryan agrees. “Let’s go welcome you home properly.”)

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Want to talk about it? Comment or come chat on tumblr at [ fanforthefics!](http://fanforthefics.tumblr.com/)


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